


Did You Forget Lafayette?

by bzarcher



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, French Revolution, Gen, Imprisonment, Jailbreaks, Letters, friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 15:45:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8215055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher
Summary: As the French Revolution rages, Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette languishes in a Prussian prison cell. As Thomas Jefferson urges that America aid France, has Alexander Hamilton truly forgotten his old friend? (....naaaaaah.)





	

_-despite my best efforts and pleas that the United States must support our brothers in blood and revolution, Secretary Hamilton refuses to acknowledge your sacrifices or heed the call of loyalty, and has continued his campaign to convince His Excellency that America cannot afford to equip and dispatch troops to aid France at this time._

_I remain hopeful, however, that I might convince a majority in Congress to heed the call of Liberty, and to put pressure on the President and his Cabinet that we might continue to defend the will of the Common Man._

_Your ob't servant,_

_-Thomas Jefferson_

_(P. S.: I understand that you have been held in Prussian custody at the request of the Revolutionary Government. I am sure this is all a misunderstanding, as I am aware there is no man alive who loves France more than you, and hope that the People shall call for your release in due time as they realize their error. In the mean-time, I have asked Mr. Monroe to confer with his counterpart on the Revolutionary Council to see if we might be able to provide you with some small funds to ease your time in captivity.)_

Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, growled as he balled the paper in his hands up tightly, aimed, and tossed it into the chamber pot at the corner of his cell with a quiet splash.

“I’ll enjoy delivering my response to your letter after dinner, _Monsieur_ Jefferson.” That bastard was so caught up in the IDEA of the revolution that the fact that they were getting ready to feed the man he was corresponding with to Madame Guillotine was worth nothing but a postscript? A footnote?

‘The People shall call for your release’. Hah. The ‘People’ were the ones who had demanded the Prussians hold him in their jail and presided over his ridiculous trial _in absentia_ , claiming his attempts to limit the bloodshed of the Revolution and his mission to help innocent women and children to flee were a crime against the common good. The offer of some funds was kind enough, but it also required him to be alive to spend it!

Thomas also seemed oblivious of the fact that Lafayette had written to him (and Hamilton) repeatedly asking them to NOT send troops or aid to Robespierre and his gang of butchers, to truly let the people of France find their own path rather than having it forced upon them by an outside force, be that America, Britain, Prussia, or Spain, but when had that ever stopped the man?

‘Revolution is Messy’, the man had apparently claimed? He had NO idea. Jefferson had conspicuously avoided most of the fighting in his homeland, and bolted from France after writing their own Declaration once it became apparent that blood would hit the walls. The coward was happy to send others into the battle, but never dared risk his own life.

Lafayette stood after that thought, then spat into the chamber pot for good measure. _“Salaud!”_ He had no idea if he hit the crumpled paper, but he liked to think so.

Turning his attention to the other letter his jailer had dropped on the floor of his cell that afternoon, the red wax seal cracked by whichever censor had been ordered to review his mail today. Still, as he turned the buff envelope over, the handwriting that picked out his full name and titles made him smile a bit. Despite Jefferson’s blustering, it was clear Alexander hadn’t forgotten him after all.

 

_Laf,_

_Keep your fucking head up._

_-A. Ham_

Lafayette laughed – that might very well have been the most succinct letter Hamilton had ever written. Perhaps there was some benefit to the man working all hours of the day?

He wished he could tease his old friend about that over a beer or a glass of wine right now.

Still, though it was nice to be remembered, it would be far nicer to be out of this damn cell. If Alexander were here with him, sad though that circumstance would be, he had no doubt the firebrand would have some ingenious plot to secure their release within hours, and engineer the rescue of Adrienne and their children in France as well.

As if to underscore the point, he heard a key scrape as it was slotted into the lock of his cell.

“Prisoner Transfer! Stand still and keep your hands in front of you!”

Sighing, he stood up and complied with the instructions. The last time he’d been slow to respond to his jailers, he’d gotten a rifle butt into the back of his knee for the trouble, followed by a nasty blow to his side that had left him pissing blood for the better part of a day.

The door opened and three guards entered, two stepping to each side of the door, their chief walking up to face the disgraced nobleman. “I have received orders to transfer your custody to representatives arriving from Paris. A coach is en route for your transport. You shall be shackled and brought to the courtyard to wait.”

Lafayette raised an eyebrow, but said nothing more. He knew what the trip from Olmütz to Paris entailed. Either Robespierre or one of his cronies had paid the ransom that Frederick II had demanded before releasing him to their custody, or some other negotiation had resulted in an arrangement to send him ‘home’, where a public humiliation would be his welcome, and a shallow grave his new residence.

He prayed Adrienne would not be forced to watch.

“Hold out your hands, Prisoner!”

Lafayette hissed slightly at the tight fit of the heavy irons, but would not give his captors the satisfaction of crying out when the shackles were locked into place over his wrists.

A sudden thought occurred to him, and he cleared his throat before the jailer could begin to place irons around his ankles.

“Before you do that, might I be permitted to use the toilet?”

One must never waste an opportunity, after all…

\---

After the better part of two months in a Prussian cell, the sight of a blue sky unrestricted by bars and air not smelling of shit was a relief beyond words.

 _If they could just take off these chains,_ Lafayette mused silently, _I might even enjoy myself!_

The carriage that would take him on his long funeral procession had been spotted, and was nearly at the fortress gates by the time he’d reached the courtyard. A full squad of Prussian soldiers had escorted him out from the stockade, and the _Hauptmann_ commanding the garrison had appeared to personally handle his discharge.

“I do appreciate, _Marquis_ , that you have been a model prisoner, in accordance to your station. I cannot speak for my government…but I regret the fate that likely awaits you, sir.”

Lafayette nodded. “You do me a kindness. I hope that you will offer the same kindness to any other refugees who you may see crossing the borders – and let them pass.”

The _Hauptmann_ shook his head. “I must follow my orders, sir.”

“Even if you might be better to follow your conscience?”

The Prussian closed his eyes, unable to match Lafayette’s gaze. “I am a soldier, Sir.”

“Yet also a man.”

The courtyard gates clattered open before the _Hauptmann_ could reply, and the escort detail turned to watch the carriage pass through, the sentries raising their weapons in salute.

As the horse team brought the black draped conveyance to a halt, the Prussian turned his head to look back at Lafayette, his expression carefully blank. “I will put all due consideration into what you have said, _Marquis_. Such matters may keep me occupied for some time.”

He couldn’t tip his hand by smiling, but he could give the man a respectful nod of thanks for his concession. “One expects that they might. _Au revoir,_ sir.”

The door of the carriage opened, and a man in a dark black suit stepped out, sweeping a flat brimmed cap from his head.

“I am Dr. Justus Bollman. I have been engaged to ensure the _Marquis_ ’ safe passage, _Hauptmann_.”

Lafayette could see a woman in a nun’s habit sitting inside the carriage, her face and hair concealed by her wimple as she bent in prayer. _At least I will have a chance to prepare my soul on this journey._

The _Hauptmann_ nodded to the doctor, then turned to Lafayette and saluted before he took several steps backwards.

“Advance the Prisoner!”

Determined not to let the Prussians – or his companions on this journey towards his own death – see him appear afraid, Lafayette marched to the carriage as best as his leg irons would allow, head held high.

As he reached the carriage, Bollman held up his hand. “Hold, sir.” Turning, he raised a hand to the _Hauptmann_. “The _Marquis_ is a man of honor. Surely his legs might be unchained.”

“Ah, of course.” The Prussian called out to his men, and a member of the guard detail ran up to release the shackles.

Lafayette nodded gratefully to the doctor, though it would have been nice for him to release the shackles at his wrists, too, but he wasn’t going to push his luck yet. Instead, he’d look for a good opportunity for escape later. Once he reached France, since Prussia was likely to aid in his arrest again, perhaps he could head for Italy or Spain?

 _Don’t get too far ahead of yourself_ , he chided as he stepped into the carriage _, first you have to get out of captivity!_

As the carriage door shut and the doctor drew the curtains shut, there was nothing but the noise of the driver turning the carriage around and leaving the fortress, a silence that stretched until they were perhaps half an hour into their journey.

“Well,” Bollman said with a smile, “that went better than I expected. Madam, would you care to do the honors?”

Lafayette’s brows knit with confusion as the nun who had refused to meet his face since he’d reached the carriage suddenly produced two sharp steel pins from her habit, then inserted them into the lock that secured his wrists, working both carefully until the latch snapped open and the shackles fell to the floor.

He gasped with surprise at the sudden relief, then finally got a good look at the nun’s face as she sat back with a wide grin.

“ _Angelica?”_

Angelica Schuyler – no, Lafayette corrected himself, Angelica  _Church_ – grinned back at him as he gaped in surprise. “You didn’t think that we’d forget about you?”

“I…” Lafayette coughed, then finally leaned back against the cushioned back of the carriage with a wide smile. “I did not think you would. But I did not expect this!” Frowning thoughtfully, he looked out the carriage window. “I assume we are not going to Paris, then?”

“Correct,” Bollman confirmed, “We’ll be making our way down to the Italian coast after we slip around the border, and from there a ship has been hired on to carry us to Connecticut, where we have arranged for new citizenship and residence for you – and your family.”

“They are safe?” A weight lifted from his heart as Angelica nodded, and Lafayette's lips drew up in a grin. Who needed a ship? He felt light enough to float across the Atlantic by himself!

“We – and Alexander – arranged for agents to smuggle them out a few nights ago. They’ll be meeting you in Hartford.” Angelica leaned across the carriage to seize the taller man in a hug. “It’s such a relief that we were able to make it in time!”

The embrace was interrupted by the sound of another carriage passing them at a sedate clip, and a few minutes later they could feel their seats jostle as the carriage driver urged his horses for more speed.

Angelica threw the window open, leaning out to try to catch the driver’s eye. “What’s happened?”

“Small problem,” the driver shouted back, “I believe that was the _real_ carriage.”

Lafayette could see Angelica stiffen. “ ** _WHAT?_** You said they’d be at least another _day!_ "

“Apparently not!”

Lafayette suddenly realized he recognized the voice of the driver, and threw his own window open, eyes wide with surprise. “ _John Church?!”_

“Hullo, Gil!” The Englishman’s voice was a mix of annoyance and mirth. “Lovely to see you, but seeing as we’re in a bit of a spot, would you please pull that head of yours back in so we can run like Hell?”

Lafayette settled back into the carriage, and they closed the windows shut, still able to hear John urging as much speed as he could muster. Despite the risk that they now were under – despite the very real chance of recapture – he could not help but laugh as they charged down the road.

No, his friends had not forgotten him. Not at all.

**Author's Note:**

> So in the real history of the French Revolution, after Lafayette got arrested trying to escort the families of French officers and nobles to safety, Angelica and John helped to arrange a jailbreak, but he was captured again after getting lost in the Prussian countryside. But this is MY story, dammit (or at least I'm stealing from Lin-Manuel's version of the story), and I just loved the idea of them sneaking into Prussia to do the job right! 
> 
> (...and drag on Jefferson. Because dammit, he deserves to be dragged on.)


End file.
